


going with the flow

by alcolyte (dirtenjoyer)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Menstruation, Not Beta Read, Supportive Tony Stark, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtenjoyer/pseuds/alcolyte
Summary: "Okay," Tony says slowly, eyes narrowing as he leans to the side to turn on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. "Lordy, that's a lot of blood." he comments once the room brightens to a higher degree. "Are you sure you didn't get stabbed? Look I'll try not to be mad if –""No, I just, i-it's not that – I'm just," Peter squeezes his hands into tight balls. "I'm just on my period." he blurts out.There's silence for a solid thirty seconds and then the sound of bedsheets crumpling and ruffling. "Great goodness and here I was thinking you got stabbed, thank god." the older man sighs in relief.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 357





	going with the flow

**Author's Note:**

> it's called "mens"truation  
> i'm not trans so please don't be afraid to tell me if i got something wrong!
> 
> tw//blood

**i.**

Of course, Peter want to grab the nearest knife and stab himself to death when he wakes up only to realize that he's bled onto the bed sheets and – god forgive him – Tony's _leg_ of all places. There's a massive red stain on the front and back of his pajama pants and if this isn't mortification in its purest form, Peter doesn't know what is.

The worst part; in the midst of his panic and trying to figure out how the _hell_ he's going to get everything cleaned up, Tony wakes up – slightly groggy at first, but more than aware of the blood on his leg and the stains in the sheets. "Please don't tell me you got stabbed _again_ , kid, I thought I told you I have a heart condition?"

Peter could go with that. But there is no stab wound so he couldn't get away with it either way. "No! I mean – no, I-I didn't get _stabbed_." he says with a nervous chuckle.

"Okay," Tony says slowly, eyes narrowing as he leans to the side to turn on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. "Lordy, that's a lot of blood." he comments once the room brightens to a higher degree. "Are you _sure_ you didn't get stabbed? Look I'll try not to be mad if –"

"No, I just, i-it's not that – I'm just," Peter squeezes his hands into tight balls. "I'm just on my period." he blurts out.

There's silence for a solid thirty seconds and then the sound of bedsheets crumpling and ruffling. " _Great goodness_ and here I was thinking you got stabbed, thank _god_." the older man sighs in relief.

"You aren't grossed out?" Peter tentatively asks.

"Why should I be?" Tony nonchalantly asks, as if three fourths of his right leg doesn't look like it belongs on a murder scene. 

"W-well 'cause it's gross. And weird and nobody's boyfriend ever freaking _bleeds_ onto their bed sheets or – or _body_."

Tony moves to wrap his arms around Peter's midsection before pulling him down to his side. "Pete, sweetheart, darling, sugarplum, my goose, I once _peed_ in my suit. In front of like, two hundred people. On my birthday. This? This is nothing to be ashamed of – it happens to a lot of people. And so what, there's blood on my leg but I've had much worse."

"So you aren't mad? Or grossed out?"

"Not the slightest bit. I love you for you and I'm not going to ask to break up just 'cause this is something you go through." Tony presses a kiss to his cheek and holds him tightly. "How do you feel about soaking in a warm bath while I change the sheets, hm?"

Peter tucks his face in the crook of the older man's neck, relieved and trying to hide his smile. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Thank you."

"No problem, anything you need," Tony says while placing a warm kiss to his lips.

**ii.**

"I call window seat!" Peter announces as he slides into said seat.

"So you seriously don't mind flying commercial?" Tony asks him for the hundredth time in the span of five minutes.

"No – _seriously_ , I _don't_." Peter snorts, pulling on the hoodie he borrowed – _stole_ – from Tony the day before. "I flew commercial before you came along, why should I not be okay with it now?"

The man besides him grumbles. "Lack of privacy, low food quality, _turbulence_ , just to state a few reasons."

"This is _literally_ first class,"

"And? Pray tell, what difference does it make?"

Peter has to refrain from laughing. "You're actually the most ridiculous person I've ever met in my life."

Tony slides his arm around Peter's shoulder and nuzzles his nose into his neck. "Yeah, I get that a lot." he says. "But come on – it _is_ ridiculous, you have to agree with me. Why have your own private jet if you can't fly in it?"

"Your billionaire is showing,"

"Your _brat_ is showing,"

"Ouch – that hurts." he laughs and Tony kisses him quiet.

Peter spends the first hour of the flight alternating between dozing off and watching whatever movies the airline has to offer. A minute doesn't go by where Tony doesn't grumble or complain about something like the uncomfortable padding on the seats or the air-con being too cold above them – Peter just snorts and rolls his eyes. The food is semi-decent, better than what you'd get in economy or business class but it's only good to a certain extent.

It's during the third hour or so that Peter reaches into his bag only to feel his heart beating in his chest when his hand doesn't find what it's looking for.

"What's the matter?" Tony asks, leaning into his space a little.

"I think I left my pouch in my suitcase – the one that got taken into storage," Peter whispers, cheeking a bright shade of red and running a hand through his hair.

Tony doesn't say a word before pulling his own backpack onto his lap and unzipping the smallest pocket. "Pad or tampon?" he asks.

"Tampon – I don't want to feel like I'm sitting in a diaper for the next three hours,"

The older man laughs and hands him the stick of coton enveloped in a light blue wrapper adorned with encouraging phrases. "You're a life saver," Peter tells Tony after kissing him on the cheek and unbuckling his seatbelt so he can make a small trip to the restroom.

"Anytime,"

**iii.**

"I brought sushi!" Tony says as he keys his way into Peter's apartment.

Peter himself is splayed out on his living room sofa, wrapped in a thick comforter, looking and feeling like death as he tries to keep his eyes open enough to focus on whatever's playing on the TV before him. "T'ny?" he croaks.

"Jesus, kid, when was the last time you stood on your two feet? This is exactly where I found you two days ago," Tony remarks as he sets the sushi containers on the coffee table. "Has college been hitting you _that_ hard?"

"Cramps," Peter mumbles, loud enough so Tony can at least hear him. "very, very, bad cramps."

The older man's face softens and he settles down onto the sofa – onto little space Peter has yet to occupy with his lanky legs. "Aw, I'm sorry sweetheart. Is there anything I can do? Can I indulge you in a massage?"

"C'n you get my heating pad from th'bathroom? S'in the bottom cupboard beneath the sink. I'd get it m'self but it hurts t'move,"

"Of course, sweet thing,"

Tony comes back a minute later with his heating pad, plugging into a nearby outlet before handing it to him. "Thank you," Peter smiles.

"You're forever welcome." Tony says. "I came here so we can work on improving your suit's parachute but that can wait, seeing as I have much more important matters to tend to."

"Cuddling with me?"

"Woah, since when can you read minds?"

Peter grins and reaches his arms out for Tony to fall into. "Love you,"

"Love you more,"


End file.
